


Catch & Release

by CourierNinetyTwo



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: (as in college years), D/s, F/F, Light BDSM, Petplay, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 17:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14061822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: Over late nights instant messaging, Makoto and Futaba realize they have a lot more in common than they thought.





	Catch & Release

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned by grimtriggers!

It started over instant messaging.

Neck-deep in her senior year of college, Makoto had seen her already scattershot social life die down to the occasional text and group chat. Late night ramen with Ann after exam week was always fun, and once in a blue moon Ryuji did his morning run by campus, but most of the Phantom Thieves were now only present in the digital; Makoto saw stocks in Haru's coffee company soar every morning when she checked the news, Yusuke posted his pictures of his daily inspiration with comments longer than the picture was tall, and Akira sent joking weather reports whenever the seasons shifted out in the country.

Futaba's messages were a constant flow back and forth, the little green flash in the corner of Makoto's eye while she buckled down for another night of studying. She enjoyed the company, especially because Futaba tended to be just as involved in her coding, meaning that silence could fall between them for an hour or more before their conversation picked up where it left off. Usually it began with Makoto pasting an archaic piece of law into the chat window, and receiving a chain of grossed-out emoji from Futaba, illustrating her frustration in bright colors and clever animation.

After midnight was when they tended to talk more directly, bouncing from subject to subject while trying to wind down enough to sleep. Insomnia plagued them both, although Makoto's was artificially propped up by half a dozen high level courses and every bit of extra credit she could muster. Futaba had finished high school a few years before, but refrained from going to university; there wasn't much the average Tokyo computer science professor could teach her.

 _Tell me to go to bed,_ Futaba's message shone in bright white letters against Makoto's dark background, _it's easier when someone tells me it's good for me._

 _It is good for you_ , Makoto typed back, quietly amused. _But you tend to rebel when directly confronted._

 _Against strangers, sure._ There was a pause, then the notification that Futaba was writing popped up again. _You're different._

 _Then go to bed. That's an order._ She added the second comment as a joke, expecting nothing back but a salute emoji and Futaba's online marker going dark.

Instead there was another pause, longer than the first. _You can order me around any time, Queen._

The winky face after the fact convinced Makoto that Futaba was kidding, but it wasn't the first time the hacker had implied such a thing. Sometimes their conversations drifted into sex and past relationships, although the latter were forays that tended to only last weeks or months. Makoto wasn't sure how anyone in her year could date when they were drowning in exams, but quietly suspected her isolation was why her name lingered at the top rankings and never budged.

Sae was proud of that, of course, and Makoto would have been frustrated if all her hard work didn't pay off, but it was still lonely in her dorm room night after night. There were plenty of study breaks where she fantasized about nights in the Metaverse, when everyone was close enough to touch, blood running hot with adrenaline. She missed the excitement, how deeply satisfying it was to be powerful, too strong to be denied. A future in police administration wasn't the place to go looking for that.

So when her discussions with Futaba edged into little games of give and take, Makoto leaned into it. Most of the time it was playful, demanding pictures for proof that Futaba was going out to get some air and sun, or putting a cap on her video game time when the other girl couldn't focus on a project at hand. When Futaba sent a program that she could use to actually control her screen, Makoto realized things were getting more serious.

She understood the psychology of it, of course. It was a push and pull of trust; the willful surrender of autonomy could be as exhilarating as being in the lead. What surprised Makoto is that she enjoyed it so much, and a certain heat started to infuse her late-night messages with Futaba, their guards falling when everyone else was asleep.

After several attempts at dating, Makoto had mostly figured out her tastes, but sussing out Futaba's took work. It was the one subject where the hacker's blunt attitude would suddenly vanish, replaced by hesitance and embarrassment. She finally asked if Futaba would show her instead of telling, and received a reply fifteen minutes later: _check the 'Cat' folder hidden on my external._

Makoto still found it strange to move her mouse and see it reflected on her own private window into Futaba's computer, but she hunted the folder down and clicked to see what was inside. Dozens of images popped up at once, overloading her eyes until she blinked and blew up the first one to full resolution. It was a model -- with dyed hair and glasses, but not Futaba -- with a leather collar around her throat, a set of detailed cat ears that matched the color of her hair, and not much else. Biting her tongue to prevent a blush, Makoto tapped the arrow to look at the next picture in the folder.

Several themes emerged within a dozen clicks; sometimes there was a single woman in the pictures, often two, but one was always either in bondage or wearing a set of similar ears, in a range of poses from submissive to playful. Some of the images were actually pretty cute, Makoto thought, looking at a model curled up on a bed around a cat toy and hazy with sleep. When she discerned how the 'tail' stayed attached a moment later, she swallowed hard enough to hear the sound.

 _It's weird, right?_ The ping alerting to her to an unchecked message snapped Makoto out of her surprise, and she tabbed back over to Futaba's window. _But you asked._

 _It's not weird_ , Makoto typed out, hitting enter immediately after so she could compose the rest of her thoughts without the silence setting Futaba on edge. _You tell me it's hard for you to stop thinking, even when you want to relax. And animals don't have to think much about the world, do they?_

 _Cats don't--_ Futaba's response appeared a blink after her last response, followed by the hasty addition of-- _yeah, exactly. It's just...nice to be in that headspace._

After a moment's consideration, Makoto researched the topic on her phone, skimming past several porn sites before finding a helpful 101 page. She certainly didn't own any of the gear or toys listed there, but she had the feeling Futaba might.

 _Is it something you want to try?_ She responded, ignoring the knot of worry in her throat that she was misreading the invitation. _I mean, we already talk about a lot of these things._

 _Like roleplaying?_ A smiley -- with cat ears -- popped up after the message. _That'd be fun._

From screen to screen, it didn't have to mean anything. Makoto told herself that, ignoring every class she'd ever taken studying modern media. The more logical half of her brain provided a reminder that this was just a very sophisticated form of play, and could provide the same sort of release in tension. Honestly, something about it did sound fun.

 _Yeah._ With that answer, she'd taken the leap, and Makoto's heart quickened in her chest. _I already have some ideas._

Even over text, there was a thrill in reading Futaba's replies, summoning the mask of a strict handler to match a stubborn but affectionate pet. Every so often, Makoto had to look up the right word for something, but each new discovery added another layer of depth, and if not for the fact that she had to get up at seven in the morning, Makoto was fairly sure they would have typed back and forth all night. Luckily, her order for things to stop was met with a little red heart from Futaba and _thanks for not freaking out about everything._

She mulled that over the next morning, mind half on her criminal justice notes and the rest on the private thrill of command, locked into those late night conversations. When they were both in that mode, Makoto realized she didn't have to quite be herself; it was idealized, dominance distilled into the intimidating visage of someone who had every possible tool at her disposal, able to call it forth with a keystroke. As long as she and Futaba minded the boundaries of consent, anything could happen.

After a couple nights of experimenting, Makoto insisted on moving those particular chats to weekends, making it easier on both their schedules. It was natural for things to escalate, each new scenario more in depth than the next, until Futaba signed off with a reply that left Makoto dizzy with the implication: _I wish we could really do this._

'Really' had a nebulous context when they were most certainly talking in real time, only miles away from each other in the same city, but there was an inescapable difference between words on a monitor and trying something face-to-face. A mix of emotions left Makoto conflicted; eagerness at being able to see Futaba's reactions, worry that things wouldn't play out the same way in person, and a wave of embarrassment at the thought of their friends finding out about any of this -- especially Akira.

Then again, it wasn't like they needed to know right away. Not at all if things didn't work out.

Makoto's fingers hovered over the keyboard before she found the will to type out the question hanging heavy in her thoughts: _Where and when?_

The first answer was an easy one. Futaba had purchased her own apartment soon after graduation, using money generated from a suite of hacking and cracking tools that still wore Medjed's infamous logo, and offered it in place of the tenuous privacy of Makoto's dormitory. Her exam schedule dictated the second, and a week after finals when the stress had run its course, Makoto promised to visit that Friday night.

She dressed in black and dark blue, including a heavy leather belt that reminded her of the outfit she'd worn as Queen. Makoto missed being able to call up that second self with a tap of her phone, but felt the same confidence settle into her shoulders on the trip down to Yongen-Jaya Station. Futaba's new place was only a block over from Lablanc, and Makoto's heart tightened with nostalgia as she passed the outside of the coffee shop.

It jumped into her throat when Sojiro stepped out the front door with a surprised look on his face.

"Makoto! It's good to see you." After adjusting his glasses, the older man gestured with a thumb over one shoulder. "Want to come in for some coffee? My treat."

"I'm actually on my way to see Futaba." The moment the words came out of her mouth, Makoto prayed he wouldn't ask why, then tried to cobble together a lie in case he did.

"Oh? Well, good." Sojiro's smile was small but authentic. "She could use the company. Always holed up in her apartment working like her mother used to."

Thankfully, Futaba had sworn off poking at the government's computers unless the Metaverse decided to reassert itself again. "I might stay the weekend."

He nodded, looking satisfied. "Great. You're welcome any time for breakfast, alright? No matter what time it is."

Makoto thanked him twice over before hurrying off down the alley, concerned about being late and making Futaba think she had lost her nerve. From the outside, Futaba's apartment looked like any other on the block, but that was sensible; the hacker was skilled at blending in unless she wanted to show off. Steeling herself, Makoto pressed the buzzer beside the front door, and a second later, the lock clicked open.

A glance into Futaba's living room showcased her love for games with dozens of games and an entire cabinet of consoles, but she wasn't there, and while the kitchen was neat, Makoto was pretty sure Futaba only used her fridge as a place to keep delivery menus in place with rows of magnets. Some of them were cat-shaped, which made Makoto smile.

She went up the stairs one by one, following the splash of green LED lighting that filtered in from Futaba's room at the top. The door was open an inch in invitation, and Makoto stepped inside before she could convince herself she wouldn't be any good at this face-to-face.

Unlike the crowded and messy space where she first met Futaba, this room was an open sprawl, with one wall fully devoted to monitors and other hardware. There was plenty of space on the floor, its center taken up by a rug cast in imitation of an alien spaceship, and Futaba's collection of figurines were in perfect alignment above her bed, where a few stuffed toys caught Makoto's eye.

Futaba herself instantly jumped to attention, spinning around in a black chair that was almost twice her size. She'd grown a couple of inches taller in the last few years, but still folded narrowly into her seat, all sharp angles with soft hair spilling down to her hips. It was dyed bright as ever, the orange matching a dozen electronic lights in the display behind her.

"Makoto!" Futaba sounded surprised, as if she hadn't known who was at the door. "You really showed up."

"Of course." She didn't feel half as shy now, seeing how flustered Futaba was. "It just took me a minute to find your place."

Suddenly this was _real_ , digital dreams brought into physical space. Makoto felt the softness of the rug through her stockings, and cool air spilled over her skin as the air conditioning worked overtime to keep Futaba's computers from overheating. There was a hint of sweetness in the air, and it took her a moment to realize that Futaba was wearing perfume; that much was new, but a nice touch. She liked the thought of being prepared for, her approach inevitable.

Futaba stayed in her chair, but even in the neon half-light, Makoto saw her swallow roughly, anticipation building in their shared silence. Someone had to make the first move, and considering the dynamic, it was only fair that it be her.

"Come here," she tested putting an order in her voice, firm and unyielding, "it's been so long since I've seen you."

So long since they looked at the end of the world together and fought back, so long since Makoto walked the pyramid hiding inside Futaba's head, taking down every Shadow that got in their way to save her. Their bond as Phantom Thieves was irreplaceable, making it so easy to set aside doubt and let trust take the lead. How had she forgotten?

With a growing smile, Futaba uncrossed her legs and got up, stretching to the tips of her toes before daring to take a step forward, then two. "You look good. Should have known you'd thrive in the university life."

"If by thrive you mean clawing to the top," Makoto admitted with a soft laugh. "But you look good too, Futaba."

Another pace forward and she was halfway across the rug, close enough to be in arm's reach. Futaba's eyes swept over her from head to toe, as if trying to put the shape of her to memory, making sure this wasn't a fantasy called up in the haze of sleep. There was only one way to prove it; Makoto reached out, slow as not to startle her, and cupped Futaba's face, jaw framed in the cradle of her hand. Futaba let out a shaky breath, sharp but relieved.

"I'm here, I promise." She said it for the both of them, and felt that much eager for it. "Do you still want everything we talked about?"

"You have no idea," Futaba whispered back.

There was a lot left to negotiate, but there was no reason they couldn't start out simple and work from there. "Then how about I kiss you?"

Makoto waited just long enough for any signs of hesitation to emerge, but when Futaba nodded, it radiated through her fingertips. She leaned forward, tipping Futaba's chin up into the kiss, and the moment their lips met, lightning ignited under her skin, years of distance shattered in the ensuing storm. It had been too long since anyone touched her, since anyone was desperate to, and the feeling was echoed as Futaba returned the kiss, slender fingers grasping at her shoulders.

When they broke apart, it was only by an inch, lips separated but brows pressed close together, and Makoto had tunnel vision in a curtain of colorful hair, Futaba's eyes warm and wide behind her glasses. "How was that?"

"Gets a hundred percent from me," Futaba mumbled, and they shared a smile in the breath past the words. "Can we keep going?"

"How far do you want to go?" Makoto had outlined a few plans along the way here, if only because running lines of probability gave her a tighter grasp on a situation; there were only so many paths forward to take.

A blush flared across Futaba's face, and she was too close to have any chance of hiding it. "Everything we tried and talked about."

"Can we?" The question wasn't rhetorical; a lot of their private scenarios included equipment Makoto had never seen in person, much less owned.

So when Futaba pulled away from her and took a duffle bag out of the closet, Makoto couldn't stop her jaw from dropping as it was unzipped. Considering all the leather in the mix, there had be a few thousand dollars invested in the collection, and Futaba confirmed with a laugh, "I have a lot of disposable income, you know."

"I can see that." Dropping down to one knee to see everything better, Makoto picked up a set of cat ears, the band lined with some sort of electronic interface she didn't recognize. "How do these work?"

"Well..." Futaba moved to kneel down on the rug, lowering her head a few inches. "Put them on and I'll show you?"

Taking care not to pull Futaba's hair, Makoto settled the band over her head, adjusting everything until it was almost completely concealed. Futaba pressed a little button on the back of one ear, then tilted her head in obvious invitation. When Makoto's fingers brushed over the velvet-soft fur lining each ear, there was a very subtle vibration, and Futaba shivered.

"It's haptic feedback," Futaba said, slightly breathless, "so I can feel when someone touches there. Technology is actually the best."

Makoto was fascinated, but what she decided to say out loud was, "Cute."

The renewed blush on Futaba's cheeks revealed volumes, and Makoto continued to stroke over the ears, slowly working her fingers into Futaba's hair to pet between smooth orange strands. She leaned into every touch, and Makoto eased more and more soft sounds out of Futaba's lips until she was massaging along her nape, and a louder groan escaped.

"How about you show me what else you want me to use?" Makoto asked, keeping the pressure of her hand in place. "Then we'll keep going."

Futaba's answer was a pair of leather cuffs, a matching collar, and a tail with an orange silicone plug. The latter Makoto set aside for now, but slipped the narrow collar around Futaba's throat and buckled it in place, bringing her wrists together so the cuffs could bind Futaba's hands in front of her. They agreed to stick to calling green, yellow, and red in place of a safeword; even if both of them were still dressed, Futaba was bound at her mercy.

"Cats don't wear glasses, so I'm going to take yours off, okay?" Makoto watched for a nod, then slipped them off Futaba's face, folding them together before setting the glasses up on her desk. "When you want to be a person again, tell me and I'll put them back on. But otherwise, I don't want you to talk."

Futaba opened her mouth to respond, then quickly closed it. With a knowing smile, Makoto got to her feet, hooking her fingers in the soft leather of the collar. A subtle pull earned a gasp, and she stared Futaba down with a blood-red gaze until a submissive mew left her lips, eyes falling to the floor. Letting go for now, Makoto took a seat on the bed and patted her lap as a summons.

"Get up here if you want some attention, mm?" It was phrased like a question, but Futaba responded as if she'd cracked a whip.

With her arms locked together, it wasn't the easiest thing in the world to climb up onto the mattress, but Futaba worked her way up on all fours, then sprawled across the width of Makoto's legs. She rewarded the struggle with a long stroke over each ear, the gentle buzz leaving her fingertips alight with sensation as Futaba moaned through clenched teeth. Her hand swept lower, down the back of Futaba's shirt until she reached the hem, rubbing through the fabric.

When her fingers pressed beneath to warm skin, Makoto leaned down to whisper in Futaba's ear, "check in with me."

"G-green." There was a delightful shiver in the middle of the syllable, and Makoto kept sliding her hand further up Futaba's shirt, relishing the arch of her back as she leaned into the touch.

"You're such a good girl." The words left her lips without a second thought, but Futaba's response was instantaneous, face flushed with pleasure. "I remember how stubborn you were before, but you've learned to behave better, haven't you?"

It was hard to rebel when Makoto was giving her exactly what she wanted, but that was part of the game too, and Futaba's response was a low rumble, almost like a purr. Her hands continued to wander, one pushing up Futaba's shirt until it was bunched under each arm, and the other drawing teasing lines across the other girl's mouth. Eventually Futaba caught on, nipping and sucking at Makoto's fingertips, only to whine in protest when they were taken away.

She drew in a sharper breath when Makoto tugged at the line of her belt, undoing the buckle there and letting gravity take it to the floor. Futaba's shorts were tight, but stretchy enough to give way with a pull and lift of her hips. The underwear beneath was black and simple, matching her bra, and Makoto let out a hum of approval, lightly tracing her nails down the back of each pale thigh until reaching the border of Futaba's stockings. When Futaba's foot kicked up at the sensation, she saw the pink pawprint printed on the sole, and softly laughed.

"You really were prepared." Makoto could barely believe the warmth thrumming through her body, how good to felt to have control when surrender was so freely given. "Do you want me to keep going, Futaba? You can speak."

"God, please, yes." The words emerged in a quick jumble. "I've thought about this every night after you logged off."

That was a vote of confidence to bolster anyone, and Makoto caressed over Futaba's ears to stir another primal sound from her throat while drawing the tangle of her underwear down past narrow knees. When Makoto's knuckles brushed against dark, fine curls, Futaba's staggered gasp was music to her ears. A little more pressure and she felt slick heat, folds parting until her fingers glistened with arousal. Biting back a moan of her own, Makoto drew a slow line from Futaba's entrance to her clit, down and back again.

Futaba squirmed in her lap, hands grasping hard at the sheets while the chain between her cuffs jangled before going taut. When Makoto traced a careful circle around the rim of her entrance, Futaba's hips bucked in telegraphed need; the moment she stilled, one of Makoto's fingers delved to the knuckle. A strained whimper followed as Futaba clenched tight around the questing digit, wet enough that Makoto felt no resistance adding a second.

Shifting her grip from Futaba's head to the line of her throat, Makoto kept a balance against the steady thrusts, ensuring her pet didn't fall off her lap. The word _pet_ echoed in her head again, leaving Makoto dizzy with the notion, a switch flipped bright and electric. Futaba muffled her gasps against the sheets until Makoto tilted her chin up, palm framing the rapid-fire pulse in the younger woman's neck, urging the volume higher and higher.

Heat spread across Makoto's thigh as Futaba rubbed against it with a desperate rhythm, chasing friction until her dark leggings were sticky with arousal. She curved her fingers just so and Futaba tensed on that needy edge, the muscles in her legs trembling with tension. Makoto knew she could push, demand even more, but the desire to see Futaba come was an impossible temptation.

"Let go for me." It was permission, yes, but growled as an order, and Makoto quickened her fingers, fast and rough as Futaba's hips rolled to meet them. "That's a good pet, Futaba. Good girl."

Futaba's cry of release was loud enough to make Makoto glad there was no one else in the apartment, but she savored the waves of pleasure echoed around her fingers, pulling her as deep as they could go. When the quick, insistent flutter of muscle began to slow, Makoto pulled that hand away with care, the sight of her fingers soaked to the knuckle sending an ecstatic pulse between her own thighs. Gentle strokes over Futaba's ears and hair soothed her from ragged breaths to the fog of afterglow, body limp in Makoto's lap.

She leaned down to place a kiss on top of Futaba's head, waiting for her own heartbeat to regain its usual rhythm. "You're a sweet little kitten, you know that?"

Even without the will to speak, Futaba's blush was brilliant, lining her cheeks with pink. With her hands loosely cupped into fists, she gestured up to her eyes, and Makoto understood the signal immediately. It took a couple of minutes to actually get Futaba off her lap and laying down across the length of the bed, but Makoto retrieved her glasses and set them back into place, balanced right on Futaba's nose.

"Holy shit," Futaba said, letting out a shaky laugh, "you're kind of a natural, huh?"

"Not really." Warmth rose to Makoto's face too, surprised at the compliment. "I wouldn't have had any idea what to do if we hadn't written it out before."

There was a small nod, then nervousness wore at the edge of Futaba's smile. "Did you like it too? For yourself, I mean, not just for me."

"I loved it." With a glance down, Makoto gestured to the damp stain across her leggings. "Although maybe I should have gotten undressed too."

"I'll wash it!" Futaba exclaimed, and curled up on the sheets with her hair falling every which way, ears pointed high, she truly did look the part. "Did, um, the tail not do it for you?"

Red eyes fell on the abandoned toy before Makoto shook her head. "It seemed like a lot at once for our first time, but if you wanted to try later..."

 _Later_ came after a long night of cuddling in bed and falling asleep tangled up in one another. Makoto couldn't remember the last time she woke up next to someone else so satisfied, only to be charmed all over again when Futaba ordered in an overly extravagant breakfast. They ate shoulder-to-shoulder, talking between bites, and Makoto settled on her gameplan for the evening, insisting that the younger woman take the afternoon to relax and decompress.

When sunset approached, she stepped out for an hour to let Futaba get ready, glasses tucked in the bottom of her purse during the brief shopping trip. Makoto let herself back inside with the front door key she'd been given, closing the door and climbing up the stairs as if it were her own apartment. The bedroom door was still open an inch, and Makoto glimpsed through it to see Futaba naked and on all fours, batting a toy between her hands on the rug.

A striped orange tail brushed against the back of her thighs as she shifted, ears and collar in place exactly like Makoto had instructed.

"Futaba." She stepped into the bedroom, pushing the door shut behind her with an elbow. "What are you up to, mm?"

A soft mew came in answer before Futaba continued fussing with the toy, and Makoto dropped her purse onto the bed, fishing out the bag from the pet store. Futaba froze in place, eyes widening with curiosity, and Makoto dangled it over her head, not the least bit surprised when a hand came up to paw at the plastic.

After pulling it just out of reach, Makoto clicked her tongue. "Uh-uh, you can't have this yet. You have to behave for me first."

She sat down on the bed, purposefully letting her knees spread apart. The movement pushed up the line of her skirt, drawing Futaba's eye, and the younger woman came forward on all fours to nuzzle against her calf. Makoto rewarded the contact with a rub across feline ears, then found a hold in Futaba's hair, encouraging her higher. Futaba's cheek slid up the length of her stockings, half-curled hands resting against Makoto's knees.

Once Futaba was between her legs, Makoto tapped two fingers against her pet's lips, watching as Futaba's tongue darted out to lick at them both. "Just like that. Are you going to help me relax, kitten?"

Her reply was a gentle rumble, and Makoto withdrew that hand just long enough to raise her hips, tugging the band of her underwear down and over both knees. Once they were past her ankles, she pulled Futaba closer, beneath the drape of her skirt and to dark, damp curls. Futaba nuzzled her nose against them before drawing her tongue against Makoto's folds in one long stroke. Pleasure ignited white-hot up the length of Makoto's spine, provoking a hiss from between clenched teeth.

"That's my girl," she gasped, grip tightening in orange hair.

Futaba began to lap and lick at Makoto in earnest, spreading slick heat everywhere her tongue moved. Her lips softly wrapped around Makoto's clit and sucked, building up the pressure until a tug on her hair encouraged otherwise. Makoto shuddered when Futaba's tongue delved past her entrance, teasing the sensitive nerves there with shallow thrusts, and started to grind her hips, letting out a breathless moan when the bridge of Futaba's nose bumped against her clit.

Being serviced in silence was overwhelming in the best of ways, and Makoto knew that she could check in at any time, but Futaba was so insistent with her mouth that it was difficult to think about anything else. Tension climbed up Makoto's thighs as her hips pumped forward, the movement short and demanding, only to have Futaba's attention center on her clit once more. Bliss spiraled tight in the pit of her stomach, and Makoto's breath grew fast and hot inside her lungs.

"Oh, Futaba, _god_ \--" The curse was cut short by Futaba's nails scratching at her thighs, pressing sharp through the stockings, and the sudden shift in sensation yanked Makoto right over the edge into orgasm.

Her knees pressed in on either side of Futaba's head, holding her and the swift strokes of her tongue in place until the wave of ecstasy finally crested, coming down into a full-body haze of relief. Makoto was half-bent over, breathing hard until she forced her legs to cooperate again, relaxing so Futaba could slip out from beneath her skirt. Her lips and chin were shining slick in the flickering neon light of the room, eyes dark with desire and the need to please.

"You're so good, aren't you?" Makoto whispered fondly, ruffling her fingers through Futaba's hair before swiping a thumb across the younger woman's chin. "But you made such a mess."

Futaba moved to lick the remnants clean without an order, and the warm reminder of her pet's tongue made Makoto shiver all over again. "There we go. Much better."

It took another minute before she found the will to reach over into her purse, fetching Futaba's glasses and offering them back. Futaba tilted her head so Makoto could slide them on, her submissive demeanor collapsing into a satisfied smile. "What did you get me?"

"Nothing too out of the ordinary, but..." Makoto turned the bag over until its contents spilled out: a white porcelain bowl with Futaba's name painted in kanji along the front, framed by cherry blossoms. "Did you know the store down the way does custom lettering?"

The squeal of surprise that left Futaba's throat must have terrorized every dog on the block, but she picked up the bowl with an air of reverence, turning it over to see each side. "Makoto, this is so awesome."

"It was one of the only things you didn't have in that bag of yours." An aftershock of pleasure made a muscle in Makoto's thigh twitch, and she gave up on the idea of leaving the bed, patting the pillows beside her instead. "So come up here and give me a kiss."

Without hesitation, Futaba clambered up onto the mattress, her lips finding Makoto's a second later. "Mm, you're the best."

"I'm not done with you yet." Her fingers caressed down Futaba's bare back, over the curve of her ass to where the tail protruded. "I didn't get to play with this."

The groan that came in answer was all too satisfying. "It's only Saturday. Stay the weekend?"

"I planned on it, kitten." Makoto looked deep into Futaba's eyes, watching the hunger there bloom. "Glasses off now."

They had so many hours left to play.

\--


End file.
